


The One Where Stiles Would Like His Boyfriend To Let Him Make His Own Mistakes

by missmagoo



Series: college radio au [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Getting Back Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 13:24:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5628145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmagoo/pseuds/missmagoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek isn't great with words. Stiles isn't great with impulse control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Stiles Would Like His Boyfriend To Let Him Make His Own Mistakes

It's been a month since Stiles graduated from college, and he's been frantically searching for a job that actually uses his degree in media and communications. 

Derek has offered multiple times to find him something at Hale Records, but Stiles refused.

"We're trying  _not_ to make people think you're my sugardaddy, remember?" he'd said, laughing.

Derek had rolled his eyes, but agreed to limit his involvement in Stiles' job search to introducing him to other people in the industry.

“So, uh, you know Dave? Who you introduced me to at that party the other night?” Stiles says.

Derek looks up from his book and blinks for a few moments, catching his brain up to the conversation. “Of course, yeah. What about him?”

“Well, I had coffee with him this morning to, you know, talk about career stuff,” Stiles says, shifting awkwardly.

“Uh, ok. Cool?” Derek says, unsure where the conversation is going. Stiles is acting nervous, which is never a great sign, but Derek’s trying not to jump to conclusions. “Dave’s a great guy to know. He has a lot of connections in the industry.”

“Yeah, uh, the thing is,” Stiles says, wincing slightly, “he kind of offered me a job.”

“Stiles! That’s great!” Derek says, surprised by the good news. He sets his book down and standing to give his boyfriend a hug.

“Yeah, well, sort of,” Stiles says, shying away. “Only not really. The thing is, the job is in New York.”

That draws Derek to a halt. “New York?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “Like, opposite side of the country, New York.”

“Oh,” Derek says. “Wow. Um, what did you tell him?”

“Well, you know, I didn’t want to be rude or anything,” Stiles says, turning away from Derek to dig around in the fridge. “Like, he’s your friend, and he’s a good person to be on good terms with and stuff, so I told him I had to think about it.”

“And are you?” Derek asks.

“What?” Stiles says, head popping up from behind the refrigerator door. “Don’t be crazy! I live here. I’m not taking some job in New York.”

“It’s not crazy,” Derek says. “A lot of people move to new cities for a job, especially right out of college.”

“Yeah, and a lot of other people choose to find jobs that let them stay close to their friends and family and  _ boyfriends _ ,” Stiles says pointedly.

“Look, it’s not a bad idea for you to just  _ think _ about --”

“I’m not thinking about it!” Stiles interrupts. “I’m not dropping everything in my life to move somewhere I don’t know anybody. The only reason I’m even telling you about it is because I thought you might have some advice on how to politely tell your friend ‘thanks, but no thanks’ without, like, getting myself blacklisted in the industry.”

“Ok, first of all, nobody has that level of influence, especially not Dave. No matter what nonsense he told you,” Derek says. “And second of all; I’m just saying, if it’s a good job it’s worth considering,” Derek says.

“Dude! Are you trying to talk me into leaving?” Stiles asks, incredulous. “Do you, like,  _ want _ me to leave or something?”

“No!” Derek says immediately, “Of course not, jesus. It’s just --”

“Just what?” Stiles pushes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Derek says, “but I don’t want to be the reason you stay.”

Silence falls over the kitchen, the hum of the refrigerator too loud in the sudden absence of other noise. Stiles stares gape mouthed at Derek for a few long moments, before exploding, “What the hell does  _ that _ mean?”

“It means,” Derek says, as calmly as he can despite the slowly dawning realization that he’s probably fucking this up, “that you’re barely out of college, you’re just starting your life as an adult, and I don’t want you holding yourself back just because you think you’re in love with me.”

Well shit, those weren’t the right words.

“Think?” Stiles says, his voice low and dangerous. “ _ THINK?!? _ Where the fuck do you get off throwing around accusations like that?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just -- You’re young, Stiles. This is your first relationship,” Derek says. “I don’t want you to stay here to be with me, and then resent me down the road because you realize all the other things you miss out on because of that.”

“You jackass,” Stiles spits. “If I’m such a fucking child, why the hell are you even with me in the first place?”

Derek’s struck dumb by the vitriol in Stiles’ voice. The silence stretches painfully between them.

Stiles barks a harsh, unhappy laugh. “Seven months together, and you can’t even come up with a reason you’re with me. That’s just fucking great.”

“I’m with you because I love you,” Derek says.

That just makes Stiles angrier. “You  _ love  _ me?” he says harshly.

“Stiles, of course I do,” Derek says, pleading.

“So  _ you _ can love  _ me _ , but I’m just too fucking immature to love you back, is that it?” Stiles demands.

“Stiles, come on. That’s not what I meant,” Derek says.

“Shut up,” Stiles snaps. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

He stomps out of Derek’s apartment and slams the door behind him.

* * *

 

Stiles takes the job in New York.

He tells everyone -- his dad, Scott, himself -- that it’s because the job really is too good an opportunity to turn down. That it’s a great leg up in his career and he’d be stupid  _ not _ to take it. And most of the time, he believes that’s the truth.

The rest of the time, he knows that part of him took the job to spite Derek, to punish him for not even trying to convince Stiles to stay. He kind of hates himself for that, just a little.

After Stiles walked out of Derek's apartment, he waited restlessly by the elevator for Derek to come rushing after him. When that didn’t happen, he dragged his feet all the way to Scott’s place, hoping the whole time that Derek would catch up to him or call him, apologize and beg him to come back.

Three day without hearing from Derek, Stiles had raged to Scott, “You know what? Fuck him! Maybe I should take that job after all.” He’d meant to be facetious, the idea of moving so far away and leaving everyone and everything he knew behind still seeming like an absurd proposition.

But then Scott had said, “I mean, yeah, dude. It sounds like a pretty awesome gig. Maybe you should just go for it.”

And that's how Stiles had ended up emailing Dave-From-That-One-Party to accept the job offer while drunk off his ass and shittalking his (ex?) boyfriend. After that, there just didn’t seem to be enough of a reason to back out of it, so he moved to New York.

The job is for a huge media company -- they own radio stations, television channels, and more new media outlets than Stiles can wrap his head around. He’s hired as an assistant, but is told from the outset that the company likes to grow from within and that if he does a good job he can expect to rise quickly through the ranks.

Within a year they’ve given him his own company-branded youtube channel where he reviews new music, interviews artists, and puts his spin on the latest music news stories. A few months after that, he starts doing music news guest segments on  _ E! _

 

It’s three and a half years before he sees Derek again.

Stiles has booked a gig doing red carpet interviews at the freaking  _ Grammy’s _ , and is buzzing out of his skin as he gets the chance to interview some of his music idols.

The interviews are going well. Stiles is feeling confidant that he’s riding that line between goofy and charming, and he even made Rihanna - the  _ real, actual Rihanna _ \- laugh when he interviewed her, which he's pretty sure is one of the highlights of his entire friggin life.

The producer beacons him over to give him some notes about the next few interviews, then says, “Ok. Cora Hale is ready for you. Go.”

Stiles barely has time to register the name before he turns around to see his ex-boyfriend’s sister, dressed to the nines and looking furious.

“Heeeeey, Cora,” he says awkwardly. “Long time no-” He doesn't get to finish that sentence, because Cora’s fist swings and hits him squarely in the nose. 

He stumbles backwards, his foot catching the edge of the raised platform they’re standing on, and he falls, flailing wildly and knocking his head against something  _ hard _ .

The next thing he knows, there's a pen light shining in his eyes, and way too many people crowded around him.

“Give him some space!” the medic yells to the crowd before turning his attention to Stiles. “Sir, we're going to move you to the green room. Can you stand?”

Stiles nods vaguely and tries to push himself up. He ends up stumbling to the green room supported on either side by the medics. There’s an ice pack shoved on his face, so he can't look when he heard a familiar voice shout, “What the hell, Cora!”

Derek’s here. Oh shit. Stiles is too busy freaking out to hear Cora’s response, but he does hear Derek say, “You can't just go around punching my ex-boyfriends on live television!”

And ok, yes, it's been more than three years since he's so much as spoken to Derek. And Stiles has hardly been a monk in that time. By all reasonable measures, he has moved on from Derek Hale -- but hearing Derek call him an  _ ex- _ boyfriend still hurts like a knife to the gut.

The medic is still hovering around him. Apparently he has a concussion and can't just be left alone to curl up and die, which is what he'd really like to do right now.

“Sir, I'm going to have to remove the ice pack so I can set your nose,” the medic tells him.

“What? No!” Stiles exclaims, though it comes out sounding a lot more like  _ Wad? Doe! _

“Sir, your nose is badly broken. I need to set it so it can heal,” the medic insists, pulling the ice pack away firmly.

The minute that follows is messy and bloody and heavily feature Stiles howling in pain as his nose is snapped back to its correct alignment. He coughs up an enormous wad of mucus and blood that's been dripping down into the back of his throat before he’s finally allowed to cover his face with the ice pack again.

Of course, that's when Derek decides to make his way over.

“Stiles, are you ok?” he asks, and honestly it is just not fair for him to talk to Stiles like that, all soft and gentle and laced with genuine concern. “Cora is really sorry about hitting you.”

Stiles would roll his eyes, but honestly even that hurts right now. So he settles for muttering, “Doe she’s dot,” around his icepack.

“Fine,” Derek admits, “she’s not. But I’m sorry for her, does that count?”

Stiles wants to say something pithy and clever, something charming enough to remind Derek of why he was attracted to Stiles in the first place.

But his brain isn't giving him anything, and even if he could think of something he wouldn’t be able to say it properly anyway, so he just nods vaguely.

“How's your nose?” Derek asks.

Stiles tries to say  _ peachy _ with an appropriate level of snark. Instead he mumbles out a miserable, “Peegee.”

He’s absurdly glad that holding an ice pack to his face is giving him an excuse to not actually look at Derek.

“Sir, the ambulance is here. We have to take you to the hospital,” the medic says, coming back into the room.

Stiles lets out a pitiable groan and does his best to ask, “Do I have to?”

“‘Fraid so,” the medic says, her tone commiserating. “Insurance reasons and all that. Besides, you really ought to get checked out by an actual doctor.” 

She smiles at him as she helps him stand, and then suddenly Derek announces, “I’ll come with you.”

That throws Stiles for a loop. “Don’t you need to stay with Cora?”

“She's busy getting yelled at by her PR people,” Derek says, “and even she can't say she doesn't deserve it. Look, I understand if you don’t want me here, but I… I’d just really like to make sure you’re ok.”

And Stiles has always been a sucker for Derek's earnest voice, ok? So he really can't be blamed for agreeing to let Derek ride along with him.

It’s awkward, neither Stiles or Derek saying much while the EMT sitting in the back with them tries to crack jokes and make conversation. Derek doesn’t like talking to strangers, and Stiles hurts too much to talk, so the poor guy stutters awkwardly into silence before they’re halfway to the hospital.

Apparently, arriving by ambulance means skipping the waiting room because Stiles is immediately taken to a bed in the ER, surrounded by a flimsy curtain. There’s an uncomfortable looking visitor’s chair off to one side, which Derek immediately sits down in.

The nurse who comes to check his vitals looks incredibly excited to see him, which makes Stiles feel wary.

Rightly so, as it turns out.

“Dude! You’ve gone viral!” the nurse exclaims as he takes Stiles’ pulse and temperature. “Man, Cora Hale must pack a punch because you just went  _ down _ . It was so awesome! Have you seen the video yet?”

Stiles just looks at the guy, flabbergasted. He’s sitting in the ER with a concussion and a broken nose, and this guy’s trying to tell him how cool it looked, like it wasn’t one of the most mortifying moments of Stiles’ life.

Derek saves him, though. He gives the nurse a steely glare and says, “He was there, actually. So I think he’s all good.”

The nurse looks abashed. Things are nice and quiet after that.

The ER is a blur of doctors, nurses, and technicians bustling in and out of the little curtained-off area where Stiles’ bed is. They roll in a portable X-Ray machine for his nose, and make Derek stand outside of the curtain with the tech while they take the images, which makes Derek look adorably disgruntled.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” Stiles tells him when he’s allowed back to his chair. “I’m here, I’m in good hands. It’ll still be a couple hours before they discharge me, probably. If you need to get back to your sister --”

He’s cut off by his dad calling, frantic. Apparently someone forwarded him the video of Stiles getting hit while he was at work. It takes Stiles some time to talk him down from leaving work and hopping the next flight to LA, and his dad insists on knowing everything the doctors are doing.

Stiles tells him that his nose has been set, and the swelling’s going down. Tells him he’s scheduled for a CT scan for his probable concussion and that they’ve taken an X-Ray of his nose. When his dad starts laying into Cora, Stiles frantically searches for a reason to hang up. Normally he’d just let his dad rant and get it all out, but Derek is sitting  _ right next to him  _ and this is gonna get real awkward real quick if Stiles doesn’t put a stop to it.

“Look, Dad, I gotta go. It really hurts to talk right now,” Stiles says. He knows he’s playing dirty, but if he needs to guilt his dad into shutting up that’s what he’ll do. “I’ll call you tomorrow, ok?”

“Of course, kid. Feel better,” his dad says, sounding contrite. They hang up, and Stiles gives Derek a guilty look.

“Sorry you had to hear him say that stuff about your sister,” he says, because there’s no way Derek  _ didn’t _ hear with his chair so close to Stiles’ bed, a necessity of the tiny space they’re in. “He’s just protective of me, is all.”

“It’s fine,” Derek says. “He has a right to be angry. Cora was way out of line tonight.”

Stiles wants to ask about that -- he feels like he's missing something big, because he doesn't understand  _ why _ Cora would be so furious at him, especially after all this time.

Instead, somehow what comes out of his mouth is, “Why did you come with me tonight?”

Derek appears startled by the question, and leaves it unanswered for longer than Stiles feels comfortable sitting in silence.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m pretty sure this is the sexiest I’ve ever looked,” he waves his hand vaguely across himself, indicating his bashed in face, his bloody suit, the ridiculous way his voice sounds. With his nose set and the swelling finally starting to go down, he’s able to speak understandably at least, but the congested whine is still there and probably will be until he’s healed. It’s going to be such a headache for work. “I bet you’re really regretting letting all this go right now.”

The awkward silence stretches out long enough that Stiles is mentally praying for the earth to just swallow him up.

Then Derek clears his throat and says, very quietly, “I do.”

“You do what?” Stiles asks dumbly, his brain not connecting the pieces.

“I do regret letting you go.”

Stiles looks sharply at Derek, who’s staring at the floor to avoid Stiles’ gaze.

“You didn't call,” Stiles says, fighting to keep the years-old hurt at bay.

“I know,” Derek says.

“You didn't text me or even fucking email! You just let me leave,” Stiles continues, building up steam. “I was fucking angry at you for not caring enough about our relationship, and you just let me leave like I was nothing to you!”

Derek’s head snaps up, his eyes wide with surprise. “Is that what you think? That I didn't care about you?”

“You didn't exactly give me a lot of evidence to the contrary, Der,” Stiles says, not quite succeeding at keeping the bitterness out of his voice.

“Of course I cared! I still do! Being with you, it was the happiest I've ever been.”

“Then why - ?” Stiles can't finish the question, just leaves it hanging, a million possible questions with no good answer for how things fell apart between them.

“I don’t know,” Derek admits. “I think I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of screwing it up. Or worse, screwing  _ you _ up. Do you know what a fuckup I was when I was younger?” Derek asks. “How messed up I was when I was in my early 20s?”

Stiles snorts, “Yeah, you were such a fucking loser with your Grammy and your internationally successful band. What does this have to do with us?”

Derek shakes his head as Stiles talks. “I know it looked glamorous from the outside, but living it - I was a mess. The drugs, the drinking, hanging out with the wrong people, getting myself into situations I shouldn’t have ever been in. I nearly tore apart my band, my family, I hurt everyone I cared about because I was young and stupid. Everything seemed like such a good idea at the time, and it wasn’t til later that I realized how badly I screwed things up. Every time I remembered how old you were, I couldn't help but think about where I was at that age. I didn't want to become the bad choice you made at 21 that haunted you for the rest of your life.”

“Derek,” Stiles sighs, “I'm not you. I'm not going to make the same mistakes you did, and I'm sure I'll make a bunch you didn't. You can't just compare the person you were fifteen years ago to the person I am now. That makes literally no sense.”

“I know that,” Derek says. “I didn't then, but I know that now. By the time I realized that I wasn't just giving you space to make your own choices, that I had actually driven you away, it was too late. You already moved on.”

“You idiot,” Stiles says, his voice laced with fondness and hope. “I never moved on from you. Not really.”

“Me neither,” says Derek. “I'd do anything for another shot with you.”

“Oh yeah?” Stiles says, “Even kiss me when my face is a bloody mess?”

Derek frowns. “Your nose is broken. I don't want to hurt you.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I'm pretty sure there’s a heavy handed metaphor in here somewhere about you not trusting me to know what I want.”

Derek gives him a baleful look, but tucks a finger under Stiles’ chin and presses their lips together anyway.

Unfortunately, there's no way to stop their noses from brushing, and a mere second later Stiles is reeling back, hissing in pain.

“Ow. Fuck. You were right,” Stiles says, gently bringing the ice pack up to his face. Then holds a warning finger up to Derek. “This time!  _ This _ time, you were right. The last time? Not so much.”

Derek chuckles lightly. “I think I can handle being right some of the time,” he says wryly.

Later, when the doctor comes to tell Stiles that he’ll have to stay overnight for observation unless someone can stay with him and wake him every few hours, Derek immediately volunteers.

They head back to Stiles’ hotel room (because apparently Derek has a bed in Cora’s suite, and they both agree that maybe being that close to Cora right now isn’t the best thing for their newly rekindled relationship) and fall into bed together. Derek takes extra care to make sure that Stiles is comfortable, that he has an ice pack for both his nose and his head, that the alarm is set to wake him every few hours according to the doctor’s instructions.

When Stiles is finally able to curl up and go to sleep in Derek’s arms, he feels like he’s finally home again.


End file.
